and hardly a night passed where he did not dream of
spending the rest of his life with her.
But it was not to be.
Her heart belonged to Bobby Cunningham and
there was nothing he could ever do, no matter how hard he
tried, that would sway her passion. When she married
Cunningham fifteen years ago his broken heart led him to
a bar in Oshawa where he met a waitress named Connie.
She was pretty enough and the attention she bestowed
upon him was more than he had ever received. Within a
year they were married and a year later the couple were
holding a baby boy in their hands.
Connie hated Jack City and had no desire to stay.
Brossard, meanwhile, was a few years away from being a
police chief and that was position he knew would never
occur anywhere else but in JC. The constant arguing and
near blows ended with Connie leaving after the first day of
the Week of Disasters. Brossard tried for many years to
track her down but her name never showed up on any
reports or phone listing. Eventually he gave up.
What he did not give up was drinking. When he
returned home every evening the first thing he would do
was grab a beer from the fridge. There was seldom an
evening where he did not consume at least five and most
evenings he would doze off lying in his lounger in front of
Brossard was not a fool, he knew his drinking was
affecting his job and more importantly it was hurting his
relationship with his son but he could not stop. No matter
how ashamed or how guilty he felt the morning after he
beat his child the alcohol would win him over later that
day. He had accepted the fact that he was no better a
parent than his own parents were.